


At the End of All Things, a Beginning

by writesthrice



Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Far Cry 3 - Freeform, M/M, Male Slash, OCs - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Post Game, Sex, Spoilers, Vaas/Jason - Freeform, crazy!Jason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:41:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesthrice/pseuds/writesthrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the fight, the end of the struggle to free his friends, at the ends of the world, Jason Brody elects to stay behind on Rook Island alone, deciding that he could never return to the frivolity of his old life. He clears his own space, builds his own small camp, far from everyone else, living day to day until he might find his own end. Unexpectedly, he finds a beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Sunset of Blood and Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> Um, so I've never written Vaas x Jason, and actually didn't know I shipped them until a few hours ago. And this is what came of it! Don't worry, there's more, it's just that I should have gone to bed two hours ago (right about the time I started writing XD) and I have work tomorrow. I have a lot more than this written, just not enough to put with this and make a whole chapter, or enough to put as its own chapter. I'll finish it tomorrow and put it up at some point.

Jason Brody shaded the sun from his eyes, watching the play of its fading light on the ocean. It was beautiful. He gave a soft sigh, sinking into the sand and laying back, bracing his body up on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him. He had chased the sun across the sky on a sudden whim, just for this moment. Nothing could ruin it. He tilted his head back, basking in the feel of the sun on his neck.

He froze at the feeling of cold steel pressed to the underside of his jaw. His eyes cracked open, mouth pulling into a scowl. Vaas grinned down at him, flicking the blade away with little concern and a sharp laugh. He collapsed into the sand at Jason's side, carelessly echoing his, admittedly vulnerable, posture.

"Vaas. Fuck off." His voice was a growl, but he wasn't worried. Since Jason's decision to stay on the island, and his subsequent violent defense of the little corner he'd carved out of it, Vaas had been content to settle with, more or less, idle threats. After a few weeks of throwing his men at the American to die, just to test his limits, Jason was sure, a truce was settled between them, and, surprisingly, something close to respect.

Vaas tilted his head, opening one of those dark, dark eyes - Jason was sure it was all pupil, the iris lost in drug-use and crazy - and shook his head as if declining a polite invitation to dinner. "I might have killed you, hermano, while you purred in the sun like a cat." He leaned back completely, arms folded casually beneath his head, eyes fallen closed once more. "I'll sit where I like."

Jason shot the pirate king a hard look, but shrugged, pulling his legs against his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He was watching the sun set again, hating that it reminded him of spilled blood and bruises and aching at the beauty of it anyway. He wondered if that made him as crazy as Vaas, that blood wake a sense of rightness in him, that the thought didn't alarm him as much as it should.

As the sun was extinguished completely in the ocean, Jason let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding. He glanced at Vaas, recalling suddenly he was not alone. He was startled to find those dark eyes fixed on him, wide and unfathomable. He gave his lips a nervous lick, tongue darting out to wet lips gone dry.

The eyes slipped down, unblinkingly watching. Something sprang between them, something of heat and hate and sadness and lust and _oh God_ Vaas moved like a tiger, silent and swift, and Jason could feel those fingers digging into his scalp, fisting in his hair, tilting his head back, and there were teeth on his neck, more gentle than he'd ever expect and ...

"Vaas," Jason was panting, moaning, and he didn't care. He clutched at the other man, one hand scrabbling against his chest, the other running up well muscled shoulders and curling into the surprisingly soft mohawk, far too aware of the possibility of watching eyes. " _Vaas_ ," it was an unforgivable hiss of pleading, and the other man stopped, but didn't let go, mouth hovering over his neck. Jason didn't let go either, feeling the pirate's body go tense in impending violence, misunderstanding. Jason's voice was soft, "Just ... not here. My place."

The pirate snorted against the American's skin, then licked a lazy path to his jaw that felt etched in fire. "You ... you are as crazy as me, you think that shack means privacy," his voice was hoarse, lust curling under it like smoke. His mouth moved to the cup of Jason's ear, his words a nearly silent breath, "I'ma make you _scream_ , white boy." Jason shivered. Vaas felt it.

Without another word, he bundled Jason close to his chest and bodily lifted him with ease. Jason nearly shouted, clutching at Vaas. He'd known the man was strong, but he was nearly two hundred pounds, and all of it hardened muscle.

They vanished into the jungle as if they had never been.


	2. Truth and Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vaas understands Jason without needing an explanation. They find that truth is just as easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it's thirty minutes past the time I promised, but here it is. Also, no proof -reading, as it's past my bedtime. I'll fix it later. ^^  
> Edit: Fixed my crazy formatting problems!

Jason nearly drowsed, curling in Vaas's arms in shameless, boneless, trust. A part of his mind tried to insist that he should not trust Vaas, but there was nothing there for it to latch onto. He had nothing left to lose, so why not do as he wanted? His brain switched gears, whispering about sexuality and too many dicks in one bed. He nearly snorted at the thought, his breath whispering across dark skin that shivered beneath its touch. Gay, straight, whatever did that matter, after what he'd done? He'd killed, and killed, and killed, watched blood spill and smelled it and touched it. Right and wrong were much closer to being the same thing, and it wasn't like he had any sort of reputation to keep, any sort of friends or family who might be appalled or happy for him.

What he had was the hard body under his hands, the man who'd killed his brother, tried to kill him, scared him, hurt him, driven him to murder and rage and crazy. He’d shown Jason a truth, the truth. Vaas and he were the same damn animal – what made the pursuit of drugs and power less noble than the pursuit of freeing a few rich white kids? What made them different? Not a goddamned thing in the world, no matter what the cartoons said. Vaas knew. Vaas understood. Understood why he’d fought so hard for what he wanted, and then why he’d decided to stay on this fucking island. 

The others had just looked at him in confusion, even when he tried to explain. Death was etched into him, into his very skin: his scars, his tattoos, they told the tale with the brutal honesty of violence. Those people who left, those people who had been his friends, his brother, didn’t know him anymore. They had turned blind eyes when they saw him turning into something else, not wanting to see. They wanted him to hide it away inside, with shame. He carried it with visibly with him, in the way he moved, the way he spoke, and it was all he was now. If he went home to California, he’d end in prison or putting a bullet in his own fucking brain. Normalcy was shooting down charging tigers and carrying home the carcass for food and a nice blanket, not dropping by the grocery store on his way home from some cushy job of taking pictures of girls who starved themselves to look pretty while half the world starved for want of food. The thought made him sick, made him violent. He would bruise them, if he faced them, press his fingers into their pretty skin until they screamed. Vaas understood.

Jason’s palm ran across the arms holding him, feeling the muscles like iron, the skin with its tracery of scars, the echo of truth in each old wound. Survive. Take what you want. Who the fuck will stop you? His mouth fell onto Vaas’s neck, teeth pressing hard into the muscle.

The pirate came damn close to dropping him. “Fuck,” he growled, breath coming faster. He didn’t elaborate, moving a little faster as Jason continued his assault, nipping and tasting every inch of available skin.

The door slammed open with a crash, kicked open, striking the wall and sending a shelf smashing to the floor, slammed closed with the same violence. Jason didn't care. The pirate dropped him onto the cot, and turned away in the semi-darkness, flicking out his zippo to ignite the wick to the only source of light in the shelter: a gas lantern on his small table. With that startling speed, Vaas was on him, pressing him back into the cot, capturing his lips in a kiss that jarred him. He tasted of recent cigars and distant alcohol, a tingling from whatever drug he’d last tested. The pirate’s tongue slid into Jason’s mouth, invading, tasting just as much as he had been. They broke with a gasp, the both of them trembling, staring hard into each other’s faces as their starved lungs fought for air, foreheads pressing together, breathing each other. The light was barely enough to see each other, but that was plenty. The American reached up wrapping his arms over Vaas’s powerful shoulders, holding him close.

Their eyes were locked, both of them panting into each other with the lust and heat between them, but neither could move. Vaas had devoted himself to the man under him some time ago, obsessed and dreamed about him, and knew his obsession for what it was. Jason was realizing that he had done the same: plans and action and nightmares and dreams, all filled with Vaas. 

Love and hate were the same coin, but it was the love side that was scratched and ugly, damaged. Hate was easy, simple. Love was a harder mistress, actual love, not the fluffy shit paraded across the TV as if it were the most common thing in the world, pennies on the ground to pick up and tuck in your pocket. Actual love was the sight of a knife pressed against his throat more frightening than the feel of the cold steel against your own; it was the sure knowledge that you’d kill and die for him, and knowing that he wouldn’t let your stupid ass die anyway. It was a sum of so many complicated thoughts and feelings and bone-deep aches that no language, anywhere, had just one word for it, and all of them together was still not enough. 

Jason’s voice was a whisper between them, saying all the things that filled his mind, “I want to hurt you, but I’d skin alive the first little fucker that even thought to try. I want your hands on me; bruise me so I can bite you until I taste blood.” He licked his lips, and Vaas swallowed; he could hear him. His voice pitched lower, a growl gone nearly silent, “I want you to fuck me, and I want to hear you scream my name, Vaas.” He didn’t care how insane he sounded. He felt insane.

Slowly, Vaas's fingers ran down Jason’s sides, exploring the expanse of muscle hidden by the shirt. He worked his way under, and pulled it up, pulled it off, exposing Jason’s pale body.

He smiled, lips twisting in a grin. “Damn, hermano, you are so white,” in a voice filled with humor. The smile vanished like a thought. “I’ma mark you up, cariño.” It was a promise, and Jason shivered. The pirate’s mouth descended to pale skin, biting and sucking and licking, starting rough and ending soft in one, two, three places, trailing his teeth to link them, leaving spreading bruises in a crude V across the American’s stomach.

Fingers twisted in Jason’s hair, pulling him up and making him look at the marks on his body through vision gone cloudy with lust. “You see, you’re mine, I’ll break you if you ever think of anyone else, mi corazón, mi amor, mi cielo,” his words trailed away, and Jason knew just enough of Spanish to know that it was not insults being murmured in that burning voice. They met each other’s eyes once more. Nothing but truth between them now. Vaas dared him to defy him, to deny him. Jason snaked his hand under Vaas’s red tank top.

“I marked you first,” Jason whispered, fingers digging into the jagged scar near the pirate’s heart, where he’d stabbed him. “I might have killed you, but I didn’t.” He echoed the pirate’s earlier words, green eyes staring into dark ones, another type of truth between them.


	3. Teeth and Tongue and Taking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times are had.

Vaas’s mouth caught Jason’s in a rough kiss, teeth and tongue and taking. The American gave in easily, hands roving hungrily across the other man’s chest, tracing scars and muscles. Beneath his fingers, Jason could feel Vaas’s heart beating fast, could feel the echo of it in his own chest.

With a surge of violence, Vaas pulled away, ripping off his own shirt, baring his chest, and tugged Jason’s pants off, discarding both to the floor. He stayed on his knees, looking down at Jason’s naked body with wide, dark eyes. 

A smile broke slowly across the pirate’s face. “Hermoso,” he whispered, reverent, reaching out to run gentle hands up Jason’s stomach and chest, fingers brushing against the slowly darkening bruises there.

Vaas slid one hand back down to grasp the American’s erection, watching as the man jerked at the touch, breath going ragged. The pirate dragged his thumb across the head of Jason’s dick, making the man twitch and gasp, thrusting up against his grip. He stared down at him, fascinated, watching him fall apart under his fingers.

Giving a little squeeze, Vaas started to pump up and down, maddeningly slow. His other hand curled around Jason’s throat, thumb stroking the jumping pulse at the base of the man’s neck. He could feel the vibration under his fingertips when Jason moaned again, and had to swallow around an answering growl. 

His hand moved up, briefly cupping Jason’s cheek, then his fingers pressed against Jason’s mouth. The American’s eyes had gone nearly as dark as his own, and the pirate had to force himself to keep his slow and steady pace as the man held eye contact while he sucked in Vaas’s fingers one at a time, tongue swirling around and around, coating them with saliva. 

The pirate pulled his fingers away, moving them to the base of the American’s dick. He traced slowly, slowly, maddeningly slowly down, until he was teasing at Jason’s entrance, knowing that the more he teased, the less it would hurt. He breached the man with one finger, sliding into hot, tight heat. Vaas felt his head swim, and had to stop for a moment, for himself. 

Jason didn’t need the pause; he was bucking between finger and fist with wild abandon, panting and moaning and sweating. He was already too close to finishing. The pirate let go of Jason’s dick, hand coming up to grip the nape of the man’s neck in near savagery to hold him still. Vaas slipped another finger in, stretching the American carefully, their eyes locked.

“Don’t you fucking cum without me inside you, Jason. Don’t fucking do it,” Vaas warned, hand squeezing Jason’s neck. The American nodded slowly, his hand coming up to clamp onto the pirate’s shoulders, to give him something firm to hang on to. He was shaking, sweating freely, unhinged.

“Good.” Vaas added a third finger, pressing deep inside Jason, knowing that this would be as long as he could wait, hoping it would be enough. When he pulled his fingers free, Jason gave a soft moan, eyes slipping closed and back arching wantonly.

The pirate freed his own erection and spit into his hand, not even patient enough to make Jason suck his dick for the lubrication. He gave himself a few vigorous pumps to coat himself, and then he had the head of his dick pressed against Jason’s asshole.

“Look at me,” he ordered. Green eyes snapped open, instantly obeying. Jason looked so fucking sexy like this: hair mussed and gone dark with sweat, muscles clenching and quivering with want and need, eyes lust-darkened and full of heat, breath gone ragged, heart beating so fast it made the artery at the base of his throat throb. Fuck. Vaas could have stared at him all night like this.

The pirate pushed in, his hand jumping up to Jason’s hip to hold him, the hand on the nape of his neck falling to bed to brace himself. A snarl ripped out of Jason’s throat, and he wrapped his legs around Vaas’s hips to pull him all the way home, hard.

Vaas sank his teeth into Jason’s shoulder and began to move, fucking the American as roughly as they both needed him to be. Jason raked his nails down Vaas’s back, a strangled growl that might have been the pirate’s name urging him to greater violence.

The pirate rose up, hand slipping under Jason to cup his ass, to raise him up and angle him for deeper penetration. His renewed assault hit the American’s prostate with every rough thrust, making the man go limp and see white. In just a few thrusts, Jason was coming, sticky semen roping across both of their stomachs, his voice a ragged snarl of Vaas’s name.

With that tight heat clenching around him in pleasure, Vaas was scarcely a breath behind, finishing deep inside Jason.

The pirate collapsed, falling to Jason’s side and breaking their connection in one movement. The American gave a soft grunt of discomfort, but rolled over into Vaas’s arms, nuzzling against the man’s neck. Vaas pulled him close, nose buried in dark and sweaty hair. The pirate stayed awake long enough to kick his pants the rest of the way off and to the floor, freeing his legs to tangle them with the other man’s, then was asleep, the gentle breath of Jason’s snoring ghosting across his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish:  
> Hermoso = beautiful


	4. Plots and Red Shirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this has been a long time coming, and I've rewritten it like six times in the past month, and I'm still not totally sure about it ...

Vaas’s internal alarm clock brought him awake all at once, shortly before dawn. He blinked his eyes open, smiling automatically at Jason’s sleeping face, gone peaceful and oddly gentle. The pirate ran his blunt fingers though the American’s dark hair, and leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead.

With a regretful sigh, he slipped out of the bed, cleaned himself off from last night, dressed silently, and strapped his guns on as quietly as possible. He carried his heavy boots out the door, pausing on the other side to knock them against the ground to clear out any insects or spiders and pulled them on. With one final, longing glance at the little cabin, he strode off into the jungle, the sun just beginning to creep over the horizon enough to light the sky. Off to work.

It was midmorning before Jason roused. He hadn’t expected Vaas to stick around or make breakfast or anything, but he was still a little disappointed that the pirate was gone. When he sat up to get out of bed, all his disappointment and longing vanished, and he swore under his breath. Okay. So he was really fucking sore. And sticky. Jesus.

With a groan he rolled out of bed and began to slowly dress himself, muttering and growling to himself the entire time. By the time the American was fully armed and dressed, he was ready to pummel Vaas. He could too easily see that cocky smirk, hear that smug voice asking Jason something in irritating innuendo, perhaps a comment about a ‘rough ride’ or something …

Fuck. He was getting far too pissed off by an imaginary conversation. Still. He jerked the door open and nearly fell backwards when a man was standing inches away, caught in the act of knocking.

Carlos. Vaas’s right hand man. The ever-unflappable and always-reliable. He lifted one dark eyebrow, but didn’t comment, instead handing Jason a small bundle, which, unfolded, revealed breakfast. Eggs, bacon, even toast – of the home made and toasted over fire variety, but toast nonetheless.

“Vaas said you might be hungry after last night,” the man’s brown eyes trailed light as finger tips across the visible bites on Jason’s neck and shoulder, but, once again, refrained from comment. He reached into the bundle and lifted the corner of the cloth the food was on, showing that there were several shirts in pirate red at the bottom. “He also asks that you join him later.”

Jason didn’t miss the ‘ask’ in that. He grinned, good mood fully restored with this show of blatant equality from the man who was essentially the king of the pirates, and happily took the whole bundle. Carlos gave him a small, brief smile. “Welcome to the dark side, amigo,” he murmured in his quiet voice, and left.

Jason inhaled the breakfast in blissful peace, grabbed a change of clothes – including one of the red shirts, though a part of him had wanted to ignore them and antagonize Vaas – and went to a nearby pool of water to bathe. Clean, sporting a new red sleeveless shirt, and significantly less sore, he went off to find his … well. His Vaas. ‘Lover’, being too romantic, ‘boyfriend’ too tame, and ‘significant other’ too domestic. 

The pirate camp was busy as always, men patrolling, some lounging, many doing work of some kind or other, just the usual ordered chaos. The pirates gave Jason a wide berth, most of them tensing as they saw him, but no one actually made any threatening move. He was glad that he had decided to wear the red, instead of teasing Vaas – it was likely the only reason he wouldn’t be killing for his own life right now. 

Carlos appeared at his side from nowhere, and guided him straight to the shack in the center of the entire camp. The man nodded toward the shack, and left Jason there, off on other duties. The American walked up to the door and wondered for a moment if he should knock. With a mental shrug, he just pushed the door open. 

Vaas was leaning over a small table, pointing enthusiastically at a large map of the islands, talking in Spanish at several of his higher-up men, who were nodding. All eyes turned to Jason when the door opened, and Vaas spun around, irritation at the interruption making him scowl around his cigar. When he saw who it was, the irritation vanished. “Jason! Glad you could make it.” He turned back to the table and gestured at it. “Come look at this, cariño, check this shit out.”

Jason ignored the looks that the men shot him at the endearment, and stepped forward. The map had been written on, but the scrawl was illegible, assuming it was even in English. “What am I looking at?”

Vaas pointed to the Southern Island. “See, here, Hoyt’s fucking privateers are trying to regroup. They started fucking raiding us, too, attacking our supply boats, killing my men. They got some new fuck telling them what to do, and he thinks he can just take over.” He pressed his finger against the map, pointing to three places on the North Island. “He’s attacking camps, and these three … these he actually captured. You see, cariño, this is a huge fucking problem for me.”

He turned and gave Jason a grin. “The only other fucker to have ever pulled this shit was you, so I thought you could help us.”

Jason grinned back. “Well, what do you want me to do, go kick their asses since you can’t?”

Vaas laughed, but then shook his head. “I’m not my sister, sending you off to maybe die for my own profit. No. I want you to help me make pussies into men. Maybe the great Snow White can knock some fucking badass into them.”

Vaas’s men were staring at Jason, waiting for his response, though the American couldn’t tell if they were wanted a yes or a no from him. They were tense and unreadable. Jason hesitated, then gave a brief nod. Why not? Couldn’t hurt to train some men to stay alive, to kill a little better.


	5. A Lovely Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos and Jason have some one-on-one bonding time.

Carlos fetched Jason at dawn the next day, dragging the resisting American from his bed and forcibly shoving food and what passed for coffee in the pirate camps down his throat until he was awake enough to dress himself. He was ready in minutes, once Carlos stopped trying to drown him in thick black liquid.

They took their time heading toward the pirate’s main base, Carlos filling Jason in on Vaas’s plans for the day. He’d picked a handful of new recruits for Jason to train from scratch in the morning, and then there was a larger group of men who needed serious reworking – almost all in hand to hand combat, many in knife use, and a few in gun accuracy – to fill his afternoon. He helped Jason start a bit of preliminary planning of his own, gently nudging him in one or another direction with soft questions and comments, letting the younger man reach his own thoughts and conclusions organically. All in all, it made Jason feel more confident, in himself and in this path.

Carlos’s voice trailed off, and the two of them carried on silently for a time, enjoying the contrast of the rising sun’s heat and the lingering night coolness under the trees, listening to the noise of their surroundings. Jason could feel the jungle wheedling its way into his blood, bringing him fully into the peace of the morning.

“Jason?”

“Hmm?”

The smaller man grabbed Jason’s wrist to pull him to a stop, fingers digging into the American’s flesh. Jason tried to recoil, other hand falling to his weapon in instant action, jerking away hard to try to throw Carlos off balance, but there was no escaping that inexorable grasp. His grip on his gun was snatched away as well, finger bones grinding together painfully in Carlos’s hand. The small man’s eyes were blazing with fierceness. His voice was no longer gentle, gone rough and acid. “If this is some kind of trick, some sort of plan, to get close to Vaas to harm him, to kill him, if this is in any way _not_ what it looks like,” he bared his teeth, and Jason couldn't breathe, fingers gone completely numb in the crushing grip, “I’ll make you regret every fucking second of it. Understand?”

Jason nodded frantically, stumbling in shock when Carlos shoved him away. He fetched up heavily against a tree, breathing hard through his nose like a startled animal, cradling his hands to his chest and staring wide-eyed, trying to rein in his reeling disorientation. The man was so fucking quiet, so unobtrusive, Jason had allowed himself to forget that this was Vaas’s second-in-command, his right hand man, the guy who was brutally efficient, calculating, and methodical where Vaas was just brutal, easily half the brains behind everything the pirates as a whole did. Carlos was not a man to be fucked with. Jason felt sick in his stomach, all those long moments that he’d had his back to this man. Careless, and fucking stupid.

Carlos had never hesitated to give anything, everything, body, mind, soul, to the pirate king, bearing scars on all three to prove it. The man’s eyes bored into Jason’s, making the several feet between them seem intimate and indecent. Jason didn't look away, met those wild eyes unblinkingly, hand falling back to the gun at his hip. He wasn't particularly one to be fucked with, either.

Carlos was faster, his gun in his hand and pointing right at Jason’s face, his expression hard. “I’ll make Vaas kill me before I let you hurt him.”

The smaller man flinched as Jason’s laughter rang out, harsh and too loud. He strolled forward, a cocky swagger in his step, until the muzzle of the gun was pressed into the flesh of his temple, head tilted helpfully to allow the deadly angle. “Do it, then. If after all the shit I've been through, all the shit I've done, you think that I have _any_ fucking ‘plan’, then I deserve to rot in this fucking jungle.” He was grinning, mocking. He’d been blindly stumbling headfirst into every second since the moment he’d run from his brother’s dead body and the enigmatic pirate who’d killed him. Everything since that moment had been … improv. Impulsive. Un-fucking-planned.

Carlos hesitated, then relaxed, letting the gun fall to his side. He rubbed at the back of his neck and looked a little sheepish, but didn't apologize or even say another word; just holstered his weapon and resumed the walk.

Jason shook his head and followed, keeping a wary eye on Carlos while trying to erase his grin. Something about having a gun in his face made him feel especially alive. He could just about whistle a joyful fucking tune.


	6. Bonding and Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Jason's little band of pirates and a day of bonding and hunting.

Jason ran his eyes over the six young men waiting for them. Six young men and one young woman. He and Vaas were watching them from the shade of Vaas’s personal shack, close to the building so they could observe until they were ready to go over.

The young men looked like they ranged from late-teens to mid-twenties, but the girl was clearly the youngest. All seven of them were wearing nondescript ‘civilian’ clothing, and they stood out among the sea of red. It made them gravitate closer, little to no interactions with any of the established pirates. They were all standing or sitting nearby, cleaning various weapons in preparation for the day, talking and laughing, getting to know one another. The girl was apart from them, close enough to listen, but still separate, and she remained silent. Jason’s gaze returned again and again to her, troubled. “She’s pretty young for this shit, isn’t she?”

Vaas shruged, “She’s fifteen, amante. You wanna tell a fifteen-year-old girl she _can’t_ do something? Go right ahead. You wouldn’t be the first man she’s killed.”

Jason shot him a look, eyebrows raised in surprise. “She’s killed people before?”

Vaas met his eyes, serious. “A couple of Rakyat killed her older brother, went after her. She killed them instead.”

Jason’s gaze softened. “Ah. When?”

“Few days ago.”

The American just sighed, a little sadly. “Fine then. Let’s go.”

“Lead the way, Snow White. They’re _yours_.” He grinned. “Your Seven Dwarves.”

Jason grinned, and shook his head. Only Vaas. He led them over, watching carefully as each person noticed them coming and scrambled from seated positions or moved closer to the others, noting nervousness, excitement, interest. The girl looked up from where she was sitting cross legged, cleaning a dismantled pistol, but she did not get up. The look in her eye was a familiar one. He’d seen it more than a few times in the mirror: an ache that encouraged emotionlessness mingling with the sick and wild emotions that violence brings.

When he stopped in front of them, Vaas surprised him by staying at his shoulder, a step behind. Clearing his throat through the slight unease the deference gave him, he addressed his ‘Dwarves’. “I assume you’ve all heard of me, so I’m going to skip straight to the fun. We’re going hunting. For boar. With only knives. You have half an hour to prepare.”

One man grinned and whooped in excitement, and soon the rest were riled up with him as they scrambled to scarf food or fill water bottles or grab medical supplies, each eventually making their way to the makeshift ‘armory’ for gear. Even the young woman was obviously excited, bolting away alongside a few of the guys and disappearing from view.

Jason and Vaas vanished themselves, back toward the center shack to make their own last-minute plans. Twenty-six minutes later found Jason overlooking his assembled pirates, finally decked out in their full pirate attire: heavy boots, loose camo army pants, and red tops of various design.

None of them had guns on them, only hunting knives, Jason noted with mixed approval and apprehension. He wasn’t so concerned about the boars, more about what might be attracted by the sound of struggle and the scent of blood. He’ll have to keep a close lookout, he decided, stepping out into the middle of them. He barely noticed when they parted respectfully for him, his mind already on the hunt.

“Okay,” he began, looking up and around at his small band of eager pirates. “Let’s go.”

~~~

It took them all day, but it went well. Well, mostly. There was the one guy who got a little gored, but it wasn’t too bad. Frankly, Jason thought the guy was disappointed that it wasn’t going to be a better scar. Everyone had meshed together fairly well, and Jason had got a good look at their skills, learned all of their names, and learned a little bit about them personally.

Corbin, the oldest at twenty-six, was the first to find and kill his boar, showing off his excellent tracking skills, though he was a little sloppy in his knife work. He was funny and smart, but quiet about his past. Jason hoped it wasn’t something too terrible.

Dee, short for Diana, the girl who’d killed two men protecting herself, had the most trouble with her boar. Most because two more came out of nowhere, and partly because just one outweighed her by plenty – she did manage to fatally wound one, and made a friend when the youngest of the men, eighteen year old Randal, jumped in with Jason to chase off the other two boars and took an ugly wound across his calf for her. Dee opened up a bit after that, joining in conversation and no longer keeping herself away from the other men. Jason wondered if maybe she had just not trusted them.

Randal himself had a spectacular kill – he’d climbed up a tree and jumped/fell on top of his boar to kill it, saying afterword that he knew he wouldn’t be able to chase it or run from it with his leg bandaged tightly over his wound.

Nick ran his boar down; chased it clear across a field and outran the fucker. Everyone was completely slack-jawed at his speed, and, to the man’s discomfort, they all wanted to let him know how amazing he was. He retreated to the truck, his dark skin flushed darker in his embarrassment.

Symon was the strongest of the group, and did much of the dragging and lifted for each of the boar carcasses. He was carefree, joking about eating like kings once they made it back to camp, and he hunted much the same way. His kill was neat, but he wasn’t particularly interested in the hunt, Jason felt. He hoped that the man would find a real fight more interesting.

Enrique was a bit of an idiot – several times he was deeply confused by fairly simple jokes, and explanations were often lost on him – but he was an intuitive fighter, nearly dancing around his boar as it tried to fight him. He almost fucked up the kill, and had to resort to desperate stabbing at the animal’s neck before he accidentally hit the spine. Jason hoped he could cultivate that natural talent.

Michael was easily the smartest of the bunch. He didn’t speak much, and spent most of his time listening. His kill was a bit of a surprise for everyone except for him. No one else had noticed the rustling, and no one had really even noticed when he vanished after it. What _was_ noticed was the squeal of the dying boar, and the excited whoop of laughter afterwards. They found him with the boar half on him, and him with a wide grin on his face.

The seven boars weighed the truck down a good bit, so they couldn’t go very fast, but they were returning in high spirits with enough food for the whole camp. Tonight, they would all dine like kings in their triumph.

Jason slammed on the breaks when they came around the last corner, all of them instantly somber. The camp was devastated, buildings little more than smoldering ruins, silence hanging over the area broken only by the sinister hiss of fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, you didn't think everything was going to stay all blue skies and sunshine, did you?

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish translations:  
> cariño = dear, honey  
> mi corazón = my heart  
> mi amor = my love  
> mi cielo = my sky (note, this is the literal translation - it's more or less used to mean 'my whole world' - it's so freaking sweet <3)


End file.
